


Fic Challenge Entry: Bend it like Buffy

by sevendeadlyfun



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-29
Updated: 2010-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-11 07:42:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevendeadlyfun/pseuds/sevendeadlyfun





	Fic Challenge Entry: Bend it like Buffy

  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

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[gen](http://sevendeadlyfun.livejournal.com/tag/gen), [spike-centric](http://sevendeadlyfun.livejournal.com/tag/spike-centric)  
  
  
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Pairing: Spike, Dawn

Rating: PG-13 for a mild bit of adult language and themes

A/N: Written for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/darker_spike/profile)[**darker_spike**](http://community.livejournal.com/darker_spike/) fic challenge. Inspired by [](http://fanbot.livejournal.com/profile)[**fanbot**](http://fanbot.livejournal.com/)'s ["Bend it like Buffy"](http://fanbot.net/images6/benditlikebuffy.jpg) manip

  


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**Fic Challenge Entry: Bend it like Buffy**   
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"You know, you don't have to be here."

He knows. It sounds so simple. Just leave, walk out the door, wave a hearty good fuckin' bye to the subtle digs, the pointed reminders. Sounds so. Bloody. Simple.

But it isn't. Nothing ever is anymore. It's been…what? 20 some odd years since he roared into Sunnyhell with a bad attitude and a plan. Then it got complicated. People died and then they lived. People hated and then they shagged. People fought, and raged and through it all, he thought he could come to grips with it. What was it Darla used to say?

"Not like I'm forcing you, is it?"

Something about a whirlwind. He remembers that much. She was lovely and wise, but she did tend to prattle a bit. He wishes now he'd paid more attention. Not like now, when he can remember everything so clearly. "She speaks poniards and every word stabs", which is funnier than it ought to be in this moment. He's no Benedick and this woman standing above him is no Beatrice. No chuckles here.

"Does this remind you of Buffy? Huh, Spike? Is that why you stay? Just like getting kicked?"

No, he doesn't like it. He agrees with her now, as violently as he disagreed her with back then. She is a lightening rod for pain and hurt and everyone around her suffers. Well, that's not quite true. Not everyone around her suffers. Just him, because he's not sure how to let go of his imaginary Dawn. The one that doesn't taunt him or poke invasive fingers into his sore spots, but likes him as a friend, treats him like a man.

"Whatever. I don't have time for this. Just keep out of my way, all right?"

She sounds frustrated. She does this when he won't respond. No fun playing kick the Spike if he doesn't react. She likes the reaction, the winces and the growls. He used to growl more, the Big Bad in action. Bleeding hilarious to remember. He though he could bring it back. He wonders if that alleyway took something from him. He'd created himself so carefully and in the end, he lost…something vital. Maybe it was the soul that did this to him. Bit o' William the Bloody Awful Poet peeking through the curtains, all stammers and apologies.

He gets up, and strides towards the door. She is studiously ignoring him, in that special which means she's monitoring his every move. It's time, past time actually. He can feel his soul, not like the burn in SunnyD or the ache in LA, just feeling it. The weight and heft straining the fabric of his duster, fluttering like moths' wings. William or Spike and it doesn't really matter anymore, because it's time. He pivots slightly on his heel, and calls up his old school smirk. Big Bad is in the building, all right.

"Dawnie luv? You're nothing like your sis," he says, pulling out a fag and lighting it. "She was much better at this sort of thing. Had a special talent, she did, for finding a bloke's weak spot. You? Pet, you're an amateur. 'S all right, though. Effort counts for a lot, yeah? But, I'm done. So, do us a favor, Bit? Get bent."

He almost laughs at the look of surprise on her face. He's not sure which cheap shot put it there and he really can't be arsed to figure it out. All that matters is he's free. The door opens and she is silent and he is free.


End file.
